


Miracle Workers at...Work?

by AlanAlexHolc



Category: Miracle Workers (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 23:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlanAlexHolc/pseuds/AlanAlexHolc
Summary: After saving planet Earth from being blown up by an indestructible bomb created by their dim-witted yet creative Lord and Savior God; Eliza, Craig, Sanjay, and Rosie enjoy the festivities of the party for a job well done. After everyone goes home, this bunch of angels stays behind for a few drinks and simple talk which inevitably leads to their lives back on Earth. This then leads to one of the most discussed, most interesting subjects ever said between friends; their love lives. Stories are exchanged, alcohol is consumed, and whirlwinds of emotions take place, at least in one particular man who can't seem to take his eyes off a certain dark-haired, ex-warrior woman who brought anxiety, nerve-wracking havoc, and adventure into his full, uneventful life. The show Miracle Workers continues in this sweet short one shot!





	Miracle Workers at...Work?

Author's Note: There are not enough of these! I've done my web surfing and there are not enough of these fanfics. I swear, I've only seen, like, one or two of these floating around the internet. So instead of pouting over the lack of stories, I decided to write my own. If you are new to the fandom or never heard of it, this is a one-shot dedicated to the show Miracle Workers. You need to watch it! It's hilarious and deserves more attention, especially in the fanfiction department. For now though, enjoy this sweet, fluffy fanfic and get inspired to write your own!

Craig had never been fond of alcohol. Sure, he had drunk it every once in a blue moon if he needed a little extra kick on those tediously long, hard days where certain leaves or snowflakes wouldn't go away as he wanted. And of course, he just had to have those tiny little umbrellas that were in such high demand to go with it. Every time he tried to get some, they were always out--who knew that so many people liked little umbrellas in their drinks? Or did God manage to take the entire stock? Craig did see bushels of them piled high in a closet near his boss' office once. Hundreds of them just collecting dust until used for whatever beverage God was planning on consuming. He didn't know for sure, so he never mentioned it.  
Of course, Craig could've just drunk the liquor without the brightly colored umbrellas, making life a little less complicated by not going out of his way to purchase a dozen of them whenever he could. But he believed that he could wait. He was in no rush to enjoy some scotch of bourbon adorned with a wooden stick and dyed cloth everyone was so crazy about, especially with all of those unanswered prayers going... well, unanswered. So for the most part, he preferred coffee. Simple, hot water boiling in simple coffee grounds mixed with simple sugars and simple creamers, swirling around in a simple mug, creating a simple drink. And he liked it. He liked how simple, plain, and safe it was. Nothing too extravagant, nothing too bold. Just the way he liked it. And it was never a struggle to get his hands on the ingredients for his usual cup of Joe, very much unlike those umbrellas.  
So when Eliza presented a tall bottle of tequila to the small after-party, he politely declined the offer. Everyone else kept coaxing him to have some, to let loose and treat himself to a bit of booze. And although he may be considered a pushover in some cases, he stood his ground and watched from the sidelines as everyone else sipped the spiked beverage.  
The party had long since passed with everyone going home to rest after a long, hard day of saving the world from annihilation, and everything was winding down from a frenzied euphoria to a calming, somber relaxation. All that remained were the five of them. He, Eliza, Sanjay, Rosie, and God had gathered in the Department of Answered Prayers for a drink and were laughing it up with embarrassing stories from their past experiences.  
Craig had to admit, it was nice having people in his workspace. It was a nice change of scenery from the cold, secluded silence that enveloped each and every minute of every day he had spent working in front of his computer, sporting a blanket and full beard for 10,000 years. Now it was a lively space, full of light and laughter, the scent of tequila filled the air in a rather refreshing aroma. And try as he might, he was actually enjoying himself, even without the alcohol that would have supposedly made this an even better experience. But he couldn't imagine how this could ever get any better, especially with Eliza being the life of the party--er, after party.  
There she was, a beacon of light and warmth, cheeks rosy from the liquor coursing through her tummy and smiling that beautiful smile. That smile that caused his stomach to do flips, that smile that made his knees quiver when he stood, that smile that caused his tongue to twist, that smile that changed his world.  
"Okay okay. So when I was a young boy, my parents found me a suitor. At first, I didn't take a liking to her, although it was foretold that she would be the most beautiful princess in all of the land. They had us married when we were 12." Said Sanjay. "And although we were too young to understand love, we were perfect for each other. And when we were old enough, we loved one another for the rest of our days." He said, his last words fading to a whisper as he dreamily looked ahead at some faraway point in the room, sighing lightly.  
Craig wasn't quite sure how they made it to the topic of their past love lives and as of yet, he hadn't cared to figure it out himself. He was too indulged in Sanjay's story of his beloved wife to ask himself or anyone for that matter. Because, for once, it didn't matter.  
"You must've really loved her," Rosie said.  
"Oh yes," Sanjay replied. "We ruled for over five decades and were given the title of the best, the most prosperous rulers the kingdom had ever known. Like how we built a castle out of the most precious, rarest materials in the world within the time span of a single year. All of those servants slaving away their lives to bring our dream home to life. Ah, memories." He took another sip from his cup, draining it halfway as if he hadn't admitted to being a tyrant cruelly working his people to the bone just for some lovely castle.  
Again, Craig decided not to question it. It wasn't his place to bring up the matter of the way Sanjay had led his kingdom, so he remained quiet.  
"Hey Rosie, did you ever settle down with a certain someone?" God asked.  
Craig had to be honest, it was strange being in the presence of his creator in such a casual environment. Watching the supposed savior of the world drink tequila, cracking jokes (even if they weren't funny in the least) and in all, just being a normal person--which is saying something for the man who created such a weird planet he, Craig, himself had once called his own.  
"As a matter of fact, I did." She said, showcasing pearly white teeth that shined against her dark skin. "I was happily married to a duke for twenty years in England. We helped rule with his cousin, who was king at the time, and aided him in making decisions such as contributing to the town orphanage and supplying resources to farmers in droughts." She sighed heavily, much as Sanjay had before. The corners of her lips crinkled into a small, sad smile. She seemed to recall a distant memory that brought her great joy, yet deep sorrow. "He would always come to me for help, asking for advice. He never made any final decisions without consulting me first."  
"Aw, that's so sweet." Cooed Eliza.  
"Yes. He really was." Said Rosie in a hushed tone.  
For a brief moment, Craig thought that she might cry. He even caught sight of water forming in her obsidian eyes, but Rosie composed herself so quickly that it left Craig second-guessing himself if she actually was on the brink of sobbing.  
"And what about you, Eliza? Did you ever find your significant other?" Rosie lured, clearly trying to change the subject.  
Everyone seemed to oblige to her unspoken message, though, and the tension that had built up in the course of mere seconds dissolved just as fast. Craig turned his attention to Eliza for the hundredth time that night, finding it harder and harder to divert his gaze from the dark-haired woman. Said woman took a long drink from her cup, swallowing with muted gulps before she cleared her throat and spoke.  
"When I was alive, I did get married." She started. "He was heir to the chief in another clan and was known as one of the best huntsmen and warriors in the land." She stated proudly.  
Craig suddenly felt smaller, smaller than usual. No, not smaller. What's the word for it... what is it... oh! Inferior! Yes, inferior.  
He felt inferior to Eliza's previous significant other, although he couldn't understand why. Hearing the way she practically bragged about her husband made his heart squeeze, as if some greater being was clenching his pumping organ in their iron fist. With every good, remarkable thing she mentioned about her warrior groom from her past, the harder it became to breathe. An angry burning sensation was spreading throughout the innards of his chest like a raging wildfire eating away at a forest, suffocating him with clouds of smoke and ash until he forced himself to breathe in through his flared nostrils heavily. And the meaty hand clutching his heart was now strangling the life out of it, shaking it like a helpless rag doll. He was lucky to have the armrests of his chair to hold onto or else he was sure everyone would see his trembling hands.  
"What about you, Craig?" Said Sanjay after chugging down the last drop of his booze.  
"What?" He asked, brought back to the present.  
"What was your love life like?"  
Craig had to stop himself from physically and mentally crumbling down in his chair. He had never expected the spotlight to shine on him, and the idea of it doing so had never crossed his mind. But there he was, being watched by the eyes of his peers looking expectantly of him for a grand performance he was by no means prepared for.  
"Oh no. I much rather not." He said, keeping the sudden tightness of his throat at bay.  
The last thing he needed to do was to make a fool of himself in front of his coworkers and boss, whether by his voice breaking or the tale of his uneventful love life showing just how much of an undesirable loner he was. Both of these would make him look weak, weaker than he already was. And with the possibility of both of them happening in front of everyone being so high, he decided that it wasn’t an option. He would not make a fool of himself. Not today.  
"Oh come on. You have to." Sanjay urged more persistently.  
"No no. I'm good, really." Craig waved his previous coworker’s request dismissively, desperately hoping that the ex-executive wouldn't keep pushing him.  
"Aw cough it up, would ya." God pouted. "I mean, really. How bad could it have been?"  
Wouldn't you like to know, Craig thought wryly.  
He didn't want anything to do with this, not one bit. If he didn't want to share anything from his time on Earth, he should have the right to keep quiet. It was his life and his alone, and he should be able to decide what he should say about it now in the afterlife. But with four pairs of eyes boring down on him, drilling into his very soul for the gory details of his romantic experiences (however none existent they were), it became a challenge to resist their pleas.  
No! No, he couldn't. He had to stay strong, a voice in his head protested stubbornly. Yes. He needed to be strong, like Eliza.  
Eliza. Headstrong, driven, and stubborn as an ox Eliza. It was unsettling to think that the two of them had come together and worked so well in the time span of just two weeks (especially when considering their diverse personalities) and successfully answering an impossible prayer. They were complete opposites. Him, a reserved, simple man who would much rather play it safe than take the risk, very much like the cup of coffee he nervously slurped from now. And Eliza was the tequila everyone craved. From her energetic, can-do spirit to her adventurous nature. She was someone everyone wanted to be around. Tequila and coffee never mixed well with Craig, and yet he found himself drawing closer and closer to her with each passing day.  
"Please, Craig," Eliza spoke up, her voice flowing off her tongue sweetly and smoothly. Her large, chocolate brown eyes glinted with pleading and a hint of drunkenness, her bottom lip sticking out into a pucker.  
That was all it took for Craig to blab out his sorry excuse for a love story.  
He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his chair before unceremoniously placing his mug on a nearby desk with a clatter and clasping his hands together, fingertips cold but palms hot.  
"I… never found someone to be with." He said quietly, but he knew they could all hear him quite clearly, if not all too clearly. And that was what made him quiver with embarrassment. "With spending the majority of my life in the bog supposedly 'guarding' my friends from the bog monster, I never got the chance to find someone to love."  
Here he had to stop to swallow the lump that had started to clog his windpipe in order to breathe normally again. It had grown when his next words were on their way out from the deepest, darkest parts of his being. A reclusive place where all of his insecurities, concerns, and nerve-wracking anxiety were held up before he exploded, like gunpowder to a canon. What he said next would leave everyone speechless, and he had no control over it whatsoever. So he sat there, numb and paralyzed, as his blabbering tongue aimed and fired away with the most embarrassing, yet honest statement to ever to escape his mouth.  
"And I doubted anyone wanted to be with me because of it." He stopped abruptly, eyes glued to the cement ground that desperately needed a good sweeping, his mouth clamped shut, not wanting to say anything more.  
The cannonball that had been shot for a deadly blow had done its worse. The room was flooded with silence, and the only thing Craig could hear was his blood pounding in his ears. He was convinced that if he looked up, he would melt into a puddle under the fiery gazes of his fellow employees. All he wanted at that moment was for the world to split open from underneath his feet and swallow him whole, to drown in his self-pity as he drifted through a void of darkness for the rest of time.  
Thankfully, he had enough sense to stand up and walk out of there before he could make an even bigger fool of himself. He raced out of the entrance doors and down the halls at the speed of light, and he didn't plan on slowing down. He could've sworn he heard someone calling his name, but he ignored them, pushing through door after door and never looking back. He continued walking without looking up, letting his feet guide him to whatever desired destination they had in mind. He didn't care where he was going, as long as he was away from them. All of them.

—————

The wind howled and whistled through the starless night sky. Resting high in Space like a spherical chandelier attached to a pitch black ceiling, the Earth was illuminated in a misty shade of turquoise, a ring of light encompassing the globe.  
There was a word for it that Craig used to refer to this heavenly glow. A word that strangely held a deeper meaning to him than he realized now as he regarded the massive planet before him. “Halo”. It was this halo of pale blue light that rimmed around the world that made it all the more beautiful, giving it a majestic essence to this weird, complicated ball of dirt. He wondered why he hadn't come to witness such a sight before in the many years he had worked for Heaven Inc.  
Here he could be alone, much like he had been before Eliza had come charging into his life, then leading to Sanjay and Rosie's arrival, and eventually God's. Some say that being alone isn't the best tactic when your emotions aren't straight, but he was used to it. He was used to the suffocating isolation, of being deprived of human contact for days to even years at a time.  
So why did it hurt? After all these years, why did it now hurt to be alone? He was just fine back on Earth, sitting on his rear wasting away the rest of his miserable life alone in the bog. So why now, in Heaven, was he in pain now that he had no one at his side?  
Perhaps it was because when he was a human, he had endured it because he had convinced himself that it was for the best. That in order to protect his people, he must wait for the supposed horrid monster in the bosom of the swampy lands; watching, waiting, and listening. It was his sole duty, his purpose. It was what made him remain still in his spot, never once moving. Even if a raging herd of rhinos came charging at him, he wouldn’t budge. Was the initiative to fight against the made up creature terrorizing his land that allowed him to ignore the cold grip of isolation from grabbing hold of him?  
Or maybe it was because, for a whole two weeks, he hadn't been alone. For he had been given a new coworker. And upon meeting said coworker, he was absolutely ecstatic to have someone to be with. Someone to talk to instead of conversing with himself like a mad lunatic. And who better to be with than the one and only Eliza?  
She was rambunctious and exciting, if not all too enthusiastic for the job. She was a completely different person compared to his previous employee, Sanjay, and Craig was more than grateful for that. But that was when he had viewed her as a partner and a partner only. Now things were different. He had gotten to know her on a whole new level. From answering simple prayers to deceiving God to extend an elderly woman's life all for the sake of saving the world. He had seen so many different sides to her that he was now having trouble thinking about anything else.  
The way she jumped into things without thinking beforehand, always going with her gut instead of her brain. How she was so impossibly positive, even in the most soul-crushing situations and actually finding a way out of it like a true fighter. How confident she was throughout answering the one impossible prayer, even if the odds were not in her favor. Even her physical habits occupied his thoughts, like how she lightly sipped her morning coffee, dipping a finger into the whipped cream before having a drink. Or even the way she bit her bottom lip when she got frustrated, eyebrows knitting together in concentration, cracking her knuckles to relieve the soreness in her hands...  
Yes! That's why it hurts. It hurts because now that he got his first taste of actual company, his first interaction with another human being in over several centuries, he never wanted to be alone again. Being around so many people and not being scolded or stared at for his quirky behavior or his overall anxious nature was so… so… amazing! It was absolutely amazing. Even Sanjay's presence was accepted gratefully.  
But here he was, watching the halo of the Earth grow brighter with each passing second and dimming back down again as it rotated at a snail's pace, his forearms resting against the steel railing despite his fear of falling off being so great as it was without being on the actual balcony. The swirling oceans foaming in their strong currents, the continents shifting ever so slightly on their tectonic plates, and white head and tail of the Poles looked near to a black against the thousands of city lights sprinkled on the Earth's surface. It looked like golden confetti caked on a ball of dark soil.  
None of this comforted him. And seeing that being outside wasn't helping him lift his spirit—although it did calm him enough from having a fit—he went back inside and made his way to the Department of Answered Prayers headquarters where everyone was sure to be gone. It took little to no time for him to get there and as he had predicted, it was empty. He was just about to clean up stray coffee cups and mustard packets before he left for the day when he spotted a figure slouching in a chair. They had been so still and so quiet that he hadn't noticed them until he nearly bumped into their shoulder. He jumped at the sight of her.  
"Eliza!” Craig shrieked. “S-Sorry, I didn't see you there." Craig stuttered, raising his hands up apprehensively, a nervous habit of his.  
She didn't turn to look at him, she didn't flinch, didn't even move a muscle. She remained absolutely still as if she hadn't heard him at all, eyes focused on the wall decked out in all of Craig’s accomplished prayers. Her posture was unlike anything he had seen performed by the girl. Her arms lazily hung off the chair, raven black hair draping like willow branches from her scalp. Eliza sat there, stiff as a statue with her eyes glazed over, the only sign that she was actually breathing being the rise and fall of her chest.  
Craig suddenly got worried, his heart bobbing into his throat.  
"Eliza?" He asked, a little louder now.  
She still didn't move, but after a moment her head rolled to the side displaying her half-lidded coffee brown eyes, her thick eyelashes batting slowly as she blinked.  
"Hmm?" She hummed.  
"Are you alright?" Craig asked, feeling his nerves start to buzz, the adrenaline in his veins racing through his body.  
"Mm-hm. I'm great." She said, resting the back of her skull onto the top of the seat, a lock of ebony hair straying down her smooth neck and onto her shoulder.  
Craig had to force himself to look away from the bronzed, flawless skin before he could come off as some sort of a creeper.  
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Craig knew that immediately, but what he didn't know was what was wrong. With all of his mixed feelings and the events leading up to his departure from the after party, he was more confused than ever, which made it a lot harder than it needed to be for him to figure out what the problem was. He observed his surroundings, which he learned to do if he wanted to solve something this befuddling. Look on the outside to see what it's doing to the inside, he remembered thinking once.  
There was nothing out of the ordinary in the workspace, so he could rule that out. The only other thing that could be wrong was Eliza herself.  
On a side note, if he were to say that she was a good-golly person who didn't have trouble being clumsy, he would be lying because even she was accident prone at times, and some of her mistakes could lead to dangerous consequences, even fatal. Like the time she caused a typhoon to wash over an entire island that killed hundreds of people just to answer a farmer's prayer for rain. Or how she got Laura and Sam drunk by spiking the punch bowl at a party and nearly getting them severely sick. Definitely not one of her finest moments.  
So he studied her. He studied her behavior and actions more closely to see if he could find out what was aloof before his anxiety got the better of him. The way she was sitting was most certainly something to add to the list of oddities. Instead of her casual, leaned-back-but-serious posture, she rested herself on the wheely chair like a limp rag. Limbs spread out, carelessly hanging from her body. Her facial features were slack, eyelids drooping, mouth agape, as if she didn't care to use the muscles in her face. Craig looked downwards to her sagging shoulders that dangled at her sides.  
And that's when he saw it, his heart stopping for a millisecond on sight. It was so obvious. It was so stupidly obvious that it was a slap to the face.  
Loosely clutched in Eliza's grasp was an empty bottle of tequila, sucked dry of its contents. He knew full well that said tequila had been evenly split between the band of employees from earlier. The bottle was two-thirds full when he had left and from the looks of it, no one was willing to get drunk that night with over three to four cups of liquor. There was only one way that it could've been emptied and one way only. Eliza had drunk all of it, every single drop consumed by his new partner.  
If someone were to have told him that angels could get drunk, he wouldn't have believed them. Yet now he had witnessed not once, but twice a drunken angel was present. This one was obviously Eliza and the other time had been himself, and it was all thanks to one of God's side ventures for his now-deceased restaurant project. Why she had decided to indulge in so much alcohol was beyond him, and--in all honesty--he didn't care. His concerns were too focused on worrying about her health.  
He went to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder and spun her to face him. Her head lolled around fiercely as if her skull wasn't screwed onto her neck quite right, her black hair swinging to and fro. Her chin rested on her chest much like a rag doll's, her wrists slapping the cushion of her chair.  
"Eliza." He said firmly, trying is best to remain calm. "Did you just drink all of that tequila?"  
She glanced up through her thick eyelashes and smirked weakly. "Yep." She said, enunciating the end with a loud pop.  
"Why?!" Craig asked, flabbergasted.  
She only giggled and swung back her head, staring up at the ceiling as if some great, invisible Michelangelo painting was up there and only she could see it.  
Craig wasn't going to get anything out of her. If he knew anything about being drunk (which he did) it was that it was like having your brain splashed with mud. The more you drink, the more obscured your thoughts become with streaks and spots of unreal soil. Yet with Eliza, it was like hers was drowning in a swamp. He needed to get her home, and fast!  
Only one thing was certain: this was going to be a long night.

—————

It had taken forever for Craig to get Eliza home. He had practically dragged her from the low basements of their shared workspace to the quiet suburbs of Heaven. He managed to get a late-shift cab driver--who was none too happy to be the chauffeur of a drunken woman and a skittish man babbling his worries under his breath (Craig couldn't help it)--to give them a safe passage to Eliza's place.  
Finally, after a dreadfully long ride with Eliza hollering random lyrics to the old, beat-up radio in the cab, they made it to where Craig could only assume was Eliza's pad. He only knew where Eliza lived because she had pointed it out that one time they went out for burgers. She said that her home was in the dead center of the main homing district, in the Garden of Eden apartment complex, room 231, building 4.  
Yes. Craig remembered what Eliza had mentioned over dinner that was over two weeks ago.  
What could he say? He had a good memory. Or, more precisely, he had a good memory when it came to whatever Eliza had to say.  
Apartment complexes lined the streets with cars stocking up the narrow parking spots, convenient stores rounding every corner, flashing their bright neon signs in the dark of night.  
It was late and Craig was exhausted. Carrying Eliza through the factory without dropping her down the stairs or having her face-plant on the floor was no easy task, and she didn't make it any better. Granted, he usually enjoyed her company whenever she showed up for work, but drunk Eliza wasn't the same, to say the least. She was a talker. And he didn't mean that she would spill all of her thoughts and ideas piled in her brain to anything and everything in her line of sight. Oh no. She full-on screamed them out. Yelling at the top of her lungs every little detail that she had ever managed to cling onto from the several centuries she had lived in Heaven. Most of the time, he couldn't even understand her due to both her slurring tongue and the ringing in his ears from the multitudes of bouts she had so far. And her legs were completely useless. She could barely walk without her knees buckling under her weight. And Craig, fearing she might break a bone or two (whether it be hers or his own), he took up the tedious job of accompanying her home.  
It was a long, tiring journey, and the most enervating thing he had ever done in his entire life. But he was glad he was the one to do it. He had single-handedly taken a drunk girl home without any form of mayhem unfolding. He was quite proud of himself. Now all he had to do was get Eliza to her apartment and send her to bed safe and sound.  
Craig yanked Eliza out of the car, rather aggressively he admitted, and slammed the door shut behind her. He took one of Eliza's arms and slung it over his shoulders as he fished for his wallet out of his coat pocket. The driver, a grueling man with drooping eyes and a sneer etching his thin, lizard-like lips, held out his hand out the window, palm facing up in a request for his pay. Craig found a few, crumpled wads of cash buried from the depths of his billfold and slapped it into his waiting grasp without looking. Craig wasn't sure how much he had paid the cab driver, but it must've been enough because the man nodded, seemingly satisfied, and drove off with a chortling roar of his engine, a trail of black smoke billowing behind him. Craig hobbled onto the curb and made his way to the cluster of buildings. Eliza was still singing her song and was now leaning from side to side, one arm swinging above her head back and forth like a cornstalk swaying in the wind.  
"Cause all of me," She recited. "Loves-hic-all of you..." She drew out, hiccuping for the millionth time that night.  
There was no denying that, strangely enough, Eliza had a good singing voice. Despite her bad choice on the cheesy, lovey-dovey pop song, Craig was surprised to find that her voice was quite beautiful. He had never heard Eliza sing before, but even now as she practically screamed the chorus aloud, Craig wondered how she sounded when she was actually trying, and in the right state of mind. "Love your—hic--curves and all your edges, all—hic--your perfect imperfections..." She continued.  
With his drunken radio of a coworker trudging at his side, Craig headed for their designated building. It was a simple three-story establishment with chipping green paint, the evergreen hue weather-worn and faded to a shade of ugly viridian. The roof sagged at against the gutters like melted chocolate overflowing, bits and pieces of it torn or hanging by their hinges. Nothing spectacular or unique about it. Simple and plain, if not a bit downtrodden. He reached for the scratched brass door handle, twisted it, and entered. The hallway was dimly lit, the carpet a boring maroon that was poorly vacuumed. A staircase with metal beams for stair steps stood to his right and led up to the next floor. Craig began trekking upwards with Eliza in tow, still hollering her tune. He had to keep one eye on the stairs before him and the other on his drunken partner.  
He had enough experience within the past few hours to know that if he didn't watch her as he walked, she could get caught on something. From a fold in the carpet to the corner of a desk, or even her hair getting caught in a doorway. It had happened one too many times and he most definitely didn't want it to happen again. But that didn't mean it was smooth sailing from then on, even if he monitored her like a hawk. Eliza's feet fumbled and caught onto the steps, causing her to fall to her knees every so often, bringing Craig down with her. At one point, he had to grab the handrail to stop himself from falling down when Eliza had started to lean backwards. But at last, he had reached the top. He blew air from his cheeks and took a moment to catch his breath.  
Throughout this entire night, there had only been one thought coursing through his mind: why had Eliza done it? Why had she consumed all that alcohol? It just baffled him to no end. In his mind, he couldn't come up with a viable reason for Eliza getting herself drunk. It couldn't have been by accident, and someone forcing her to do it was out of the question. So the only way for her to get this drunk was to have deliberately drunk all of that tequila on purpose. But why? There was no benefit from it, aside from forgetting something from that night and/or trying to numb some kind of pain. Was there something she wanted to forget or be relieved from, even for a short period of time? Was there something she was hiding, something she wasn't telling him?  
Craig was so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn't paid any attention to what Eliza was doing. At that moment, she was trying to open one of many random doors, jiggling the handle impotently.  
"Hellooooo?" She yelled in a broken sing song voice, smiling frivolously. "Anyone home?"  
Craig rushed to her and gently pulled her away, prying her fingers from the doorknob. "No, no. Leave the nice people alone. They're trying to sleep." Said Craig as he pushed her to where her room was.  
“Oh," Eliza uttered. "Shh!' She shushed, sloping a little too close to Craig's face. "They're trying to sleep." She whispered, index finger pressed to her rose petal pink lips.  
"Yes. Very quiet, okay?" Craig murmured.  
“Okey dokey.”  
Craig had to stop for a second when he realized just how close Eliza was to him. Sure, he had had her pressed up against him for support for the past few hours and she was constantly throwing her arms around his shoulders, begging him to chant her various choice of love songs with her. But this was different. Her face was mere centimetres away, their noses nearly touching. Her breath basked his chin in warmth, smelling of tangy tequila, her lips more alluring than ever. Craig did his best to not focus on her lips and how they would feel and taste against his own, so he looked into her eyes. Big mistake. Those dark pools were piercing and gazing straight at him; hypnotizing, like the gaze of a siren. So beautiful, so tempting, and completely mesmerizing... NO! No! You can't! A voice in his head echoed. You can't keep thinking like that. She most certainly doesn't feel that way about you and there is no point in harboring these feelings. She loves another man! Let it go!  
Yes. He couldn't think that way about her. Craig knew that he shouldn't feel these things for Eliza for two vital reasons; one, she only thought of him as a friend. It was pretty obvious. With the way they operated, it was, unfortunately, clear as day that she only thought of them as friends, if not best friends. Craig didn't feel that way, though, not one bit. He had strong feelings—very romantic feelings—for Eliza and it only hurt more when he realized that the two of them could never be together. It wasn't that anything held them back from doing so. There were many angel couples in Heaven. It was the fact that she had already given her love to someone else back on Earth.  
And two... well, that was it. That was just it. She had devoted all of her love and affection to a man Craig had never known and will never be able to compete with, not in life or death. And even then, she loved him. She had to. And it was her honesty that made Craig jealous of the man from her past, that made Craig leave the after-party, that made him return to a drunk Eliza, and made him take her home in the dead of night.  
"Why, Eliza?" He said, suddenly angry. He wasn't sure what he was implying by that statement. Why she had gotten herself drunk, why she saw him as only a friend, why anything! He was just so fed up with it at that point that he couldn't think straight. And he never got frustrated, not with Eliza (except for maybe once when she had practically taken his job away, but his outburst was reasonable). He was patient and tolerated her as best as he could, even if that meant putting aside his worries and following her lead. But now he had reached his limit when she had brought that stupid bottle of tequila and had to drank it all down the hatch.  
“‘Why? Why?!’” She repeated loudly, coming even closer, their noses now grazing. Craig wasn't sure if the heat burning from his cheeks and was from the physical contact or his rage boiling within his being, and he didn't care to notice it at the moment. "Because of him!”  
"What?" Craig asked, anger now being replaced with confusion.  
Who was she talking about?  
Eliza turned to face him completely. It was only then that Craig registered that they had reached her door. Craig stood under the dull light bulb encased in a screen of grime-coated glass and Eliza had her back to the door, her shadow casting over the slightly rusted numbers of 231. Craig was startled to see that Eliza now stood on both of her feet without being off-balance, only the slightest hint of wobbliness in her knees. Her eyes were ablaze like a roaring bonfire. If Craig didn't know that she was drunk, he would've never guessed she was. She was livid, and he was in for it.  
"Everyone wants to know about your love life. ‘Who did Eliza commit to for the rest of her life? Who did Eliza get married to when she was alive?’" She said spitefully.  
Craig was getting the notion that something was going to be revealed, something big. And he was afraid of the uncovering of this mystery, but for once his curiosity got the better part of him and he mentally leaned in to hear what Eliza had to say--as if he needed to lean in any closer.  
"But no one wants to know if I actually loved him."  
Boom!  
The bomb was dropped and Craig was blown away. He was not expecting that in the least.  
"I never loved him. He never loved me. We were only married to each other because our chiefs wanted our clans to be allies for an oncoming war. So what do they do?" Her voice rose in fury, and Craig feared that she was starting to wake up the neighbors. Any minute now they would be trudging to their doors and slamming them open screaming for them to pipe down. Craig had to do something.  
"Okay okay. Let's get you inside."  
Before anyone could come out threatening them that if they didn’t put a sock in it, they’d do it for them.  
He urged her backward, placing his hands on her shoulders to steer her towards her apartment. He reached for the door and opened it, surprised to find it unlocked.  
Guess Eliza was in too much of a rush to get to work and save the world from destruction that locking up her apartment wasn't a priority.  
She continued to rant angrily about her previous husband, throwing her arms up in a child-like manner, as if about to have a tantrum. Spewing strings of curses that made Craig blush at their harshness, her rage an uncontrollable fire rampaging a forest. Trees scorched to a char, absolute mayhem unfolding within her. He could practically feel her fiery reign pulsing through the sleeves of her jacket. Craig said nothing as he continued to push Eliza through her apartment and hopefully find her bedroom without losing his way. He had never been to her place before, and he wasn't intent on getting his bearings about what her pad was like at the given moment. He was too focused on trying to get Eliza to go to bed safely and soundly before anyone started calling the authorities with complaints.  
He found her room and ushered her to sit down onto her unmade bed and hurriedly jogged to where he thought the kitchen was and fetched a glass of water with some pain-relieving medication to treat her in the coming morning. He could still hear Eliza's heated speech from down the hall, muffled through the thick walls. He took his sweet time in running the glass cup under the tap, watching with little interest as water filled it in a rushing trickle. When he returned to the bedroom, thankfully, she had calmed down, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, head hanging low; still and silent. Craig set down the cup and box of medicine on her bedside table and delicately helped her climb under the heaps of covers. She continued to mutter her hate speech, but she was incoherent and wasn't piecing together her sentences.  
Finally, Eliza was settled in bed. Craig sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face tiredly, his nails digging into the meat of his cheek. It seemed that his job was done, so he figured that he should leave. He turned on his heel to go but found that his feet wouldn't move, as if the soles of his shoes were plastered to the floorboards.  
And it occurred to him: Eliza had just spilled her guts about her past love life. She had never found anyone to love, despite being married to a man who seemed to be more than qualified for her affections. And she was miserable with the fact that she hadn't found a significant other. And Craig was her friend. Feelings for her or not, he was still her friend. And as her friend, he needed to console her. To be there for her, because that's what friends do.  
He went back to Eliza, who was staring at some point on the wall and opened his mouth to speak, sitting down on the side of the bed. The comforter rustled with his weight, the mattress beneath him dipping. His nerves were jumping in his skin for some untold reason, but he did his best to remain tranquil.  
"Eliza?" He said. Said woman turned to him with tired eyes, cheeks tinted pink from the exertion of her fit. "I'm sorry… that you had to marry a man you didn't love."  
He didn't know what else to say. What more could he say? He wasn't even sure if talking to her about something this serious was sensible since she would most likely forget everything about that night. But luckily, Eliza was able to fill the gap, whether she knew what was going on or not.  
“It's fine.” She groaned. "I didn't really have a choice." She pulled her hand out from under the thick blanket and before Craig knew it, she placed it atop his. His eyes widened at the sight.  
"But you know what?" She said, a small smile making its way across her lush lips.  
Craig didn't know what. He didn't know anything at that point. All he knew was that Eliza's hand was holding his and that he never wanted her to let go.  
"At least I have you." She said, watching him intently.  
Craig thought his heart was going to explode. What did she mean by her having him? Was she grateful to have him as a comrade? A friend? A potential lover? He was so confused and scared all at once that he couldn't respond. Eliza continued. "You're so nice and smart," She shrugged lightly. "Not really brave, but that's okay. I like that about you. Actually, I like all of you. I like all of you a lot." She said thickly, words slurring slightly.  
Was she complimenting him? Was she admitting to having similar feelings as him? He didn't know. He didn't know!  
How much bog would a bog frog hog if a bog frog could hog bog? A voice in his head chanted. How much bog would a bog frog hog if a bog frog could hog bog?  
Eliza was now sitting up, still holding his hand. Craig was frozen in his spot and could only watch, terrified of what was clearly escalating. She was leaning in closer, and closer, and closer still!  
How much bog would a bog frog hog if a bog frog could hog bog? How much bog would a bog frog hog if a bog frog could hog bog?How much bog would a bog frog hog if a bog frog could hog bog?  
She was now a full inch away, eyes half-mast, staring at the area around his nose and chin. HowmuchbogwouldabogfroghogifabogfrogcouldhogbogHowmuchbogwouldabogfroghogifabogfrogcouldhogbogHowmuchbogwouldabogfroghogifabogfrogcouldhogbogd!  
He was now internally panicking, and it peaked to hysteria when Eliza's lips met his. The world slowed to a stop and Craig couldn't breathe.  
This couldn't be happening! This wasn't happening! This shouldn't be happening!  
But it was and there was nothing he could do about it.  
Had Craig ever had a girlfriend before? No.  
Had Craig ever kissed a girl before? Nope.  
Had Craig ever thought of kissing another girl, aka Eliza? Maybe.  
But did he think it would ever happen? Absolutely not!  
So with this thought swimming in his brain, he was hit with the reality of it as if someone had thrown a brick at his face.  
Eliza was kissing him. Eliza Hunter was kissing Craig Bog. And what hit him even harder was the fact that he was kissing her back. Lips perfectly melding together, eyes closed as the two relished this moment. The taste of something sweet yet seasonal was passed between their mouths, something strong but subtly sugary. It was the taste of tequila. Craig never thought he would like the taste of tequila, but now he loved it. Especially when it came from Eliza's lips. He felt his hand hold her cheek, the smooth skin burning under his fingertips. The chanting voice in his head that could easily be mistaken for a screaming banshee was muted into silence as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, deepening the kiss. He had no idea how long he was there for, lips pressed to Eliza's, heart thrumming against his ribs, lungs aching for air, hand caressing her cheek. And he didn't care. He didn’t care because there was nothing to care about except that this had to be the absolute best kiss of his entire life, both living and dead. He wished it could last forever.  
But like all things, it ended too soon. And in the most unexpected manner, too. Eliza had still been kissing him, hands on his chest, smiling against his lips, when suddenly she went slack. Craig snapped his eyes open and blinked in question. But he would receive no answer, for it was then that he saw that the heavy drunkenness possessing her being had finally taken her under, yanking her into a deep slumber. Craig, disappointed for an unsaid but obvious reason, lowered her to lay down, helping her rest on her side. He stood to his feet and observed Eliza for a moment. Her sun kissed skin gleamed in the orange glow of her bedside lamp, eyebrows raised slightly, mouth parted as if about to say something. He brushed a lock of raven hair entangled in her long eyelashes away from her face and without any thought, he kissed her forehead.  
One would say (if they had witnessed it) that it was done in a friendly manner, and maybe it was. But to Craig, it meant so much more. And it may have just been his exhaustion or a trick of his eyes, but he could've sworn he saw a small grin form on Eliza's plump lips that were once on his own. He touched his lips, still warm from the kiss, and smiled. He couldn’t remember exiting the apartment or making sure to lock the door in which Eliza had failed to do earlier that morning, but he knew that later on that he was walking down the sidewalk, heading for his own place. Craig had decided to walk instead of calling a cab. His pad wasn't too far from hers and he could use the walk to clear his head. Halfway there, his brain started to function normally once again and thoughts he hadn't listened to before now drowned him in anxiety. All of them wailing cries of doubt and fear so loud and in such random order that he couldn't decipher them. But for some reason, he didn't fret upon it and the voices eventually died down until they were dead silent. And for the first time ever (maybe not exactly the first, but he couldn't recall any other times), Craig felt brave. He felt a warmth grow in his gut, something strong and benevolent. It was a chivalrous urge to do something dangerous and daring.  
Was this courage? And if it was, was this how Eliza felt all the time? To feel like the courageous warrior that Eliza was famed for in her past life?  
Craig liked it. He liked it a lot. But instead of acting on this instinct, he kept walking towards home. He had already done something rather brave today, in this case kissing Eliza.  
Baby steps, he thought to himself.  
Of course, the thoughts didn't stay quiet for long and a few caught his attention. What if she had only kissed you because she was drunk and didn't know what she was doing? What if that kiss meant nothing but an act of irrationality?  
At this, Craig physically reeled.  
Yes. If these questions were answered logically, it was likely that Eliza wasn’t in control of her actions and thus did not kiss him. Drunk Eliza had kissed him, not the real Eliza submerged under the mounds of tequila that coursed through her belly and brain. She wouldn’t remember anything from that night, and he knew that she had intended to do so. The recurrence of telling her fellow employees of a husband she was never in love with must've been so painful to recall that she felt the need to numb herself by indulging in the consumption of alcohol, which did just the trick.  
No. Craig refused to believe that. He refused to believe that Eliza had only kissed him because her thought process was all out of whack. There had to be a reason for it. There had to be.  
This was Eliza, for crying out loud. Sure, she had her episodes of “fight or die” and “go big or go home” phases that ended in rather momentous results (most worse than others), but with something this huge she must've put some thought into it.  
In the end, Craig dropped it altogether. It had been a long night and he desperately needed a good night's rest. He could think about it tomorrow, but for now, he would savor those short minutes alone with Eliza. Those sweet, sweet seconds of her mouth on his, their lips melting together in harmony with the barest hints of teeth, hearts beating like a rapid drum.  
No matter how drunk Eliza was or how tired he was or how long their journey had been, it was theirs and theirs alone.  
Only one thing was for certain: this was a night to never forget.

Author’s Note: For all of those of you reading this for the first time, I hope you guys liked this and you should totally check out my other Miracle Workers stories.  
And for those out there who are reading this again, if you’ve noticed a few different things in this story it’s because I edited it after seeing a few grammar mistakes (sorry about that).  
And for the few, yet loyal ones out there who I am ever so grateful for, if you got like 10 notifications that I posted the same story in the span of 5 minutes, I’m really sorry about that. I was trying to edit this and it would only save if I posted it yet again. I apologize for that.  
Anywho, thank you all for your support and I hope you guys check out my other stories. Don’t be afraid to comment and critique.


End file.
